Steele Revealed
by LJLanham
Summary: Part of the "Legacy" universe... The Steeles take on a case for an old friend and travel to Paris. At home, they come to terms with a big "reveal."
1. Chapter 1

"Sixteen," Remington Steele pondered as he leaned back in his office chair. "Laura, she's barely sixteen. Do you really think she's ready to go off to college?"

"Yes," his wife answered as she sat on the corner of the desk. "I mean, she's always been wise beyond her years. I think she'll be able to handle herself. She'll be in a dorm at Stanford," she told him. "It's not like we're just shoving her out on her own. Our little girl is growing up fast, Mr. Steele."

"Faster than I care to think about, Mrs. Steele."

"I know," Laura said, leaning in for a kiss.

The quick kiss of assurance quickly became heated, as things usually did with the Steeles, and neither of them noticed the opening of the office door.

"Really. You two… and I thought this was a place of business."

Remington and Laura looked up at their visitor, who was smiling like the cat who swallowed the proverbial canary. Laura moved away from her husband's embrace and around to the front of his desk.

"Michael," she said. "I really thought you would have tired of little Lisa by now."

"Never," Remington answered with a wink in his wife's direction.

"Hello, Felicia," Laura offered.

"Lisa."

"It's still Laura," Mrs. Steele said, standing to face the other woman.

Felicia looked from Laura to Remington and back again.

"I need your help," she said.

Laura looked from Felicia to Remington and fought back the temptation to roll her eyes. Would she ever be rid of "old friends" from his past coming back for help? There was no telling what Felicia could ask for…of course, it did bode well that she'd actually made her request in Laura's presence. That gave Laura some hope that whatever it was it would be legal, at the very least.

Remington caught her gaze and cautiously addressed their guest. "What is it, Felicia?"

"I'm being framed," she said, walking toward the window.

This time, Laura gave in and let her eyes roll. She did have the grace to hold back the laughter that was bubbling up within her, however. And it was Felicia who caught her reaction and addressed her.

"You've never cared for me and have no reason to trust me," she said. "Which makes it all the more serious that I'm here, don't you think?"

Laura had to agree that the assessment made sense.

Remington sat back and watched… mostly to observe Felicia as he hoped he'd be able to know if she were telling the truth, but also because even after all these years he was still uncomfortable being alone with these particular women. The tension between the two was palpable.

"Go on," Laura said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the front of Remington's desk. She indicated for Felicia to have a seat in the chair in front of the desk as Remington walked around to stand next to her.

"You see," Felicia went on slowly, with long pauses as she watched the Steeles listen to her story, "there have been some… burglaries…"

Laura scoffed and Remington shot her a scolding look.

"What kind of burglaries?" Remington asked.

"What kind do you imagine, darling? The kind that require skill and cunning…" She smiled at him knowingly.

He couldn't help but smile slightly in response, and then he reached up to tug on his collar as he felt the heat from his wife's gaze.

"…there have been several jewel thefts and some art thefts as well… in various locations around the Continent…"

"And just what can we do help you, Felicia?" Laura asked, losing patience with her former adversary.

This time, it was Felicia who let out the longsuffering sigh.

"These burglaries have each been quite similar to some of my past… indiscretions."

"But you haven't been involved," Remington prompted.

"Of course not, darling. You know I've been walking the straight and narrow for some years now."

She'd never admit it in front of Laura, but she hadn't felt physically up to such exploits for longer than she cared to think about.

"Then what's the problem?" Laura asked.

"Whoever is behind it claims that they have left enough evidence to link me to the thefts and has threatened to send the police looking at me if I don't acquire for them a certain canvas."

"_What_ canvas?" Laura asked, looking up at her husband.

"_The Five Nudes of Cairo_," Felicia answered, looking directly at Remington.

He turned to his wife and could see her seething. Calmly, he turned back to their guest.

"Felicia, darling," he said. "Will you excuse us a moment?"

He took Laura by the elbow and led her through the connecting door into her own office.

"Oh, no," Laura said as he closed the door behind them

"Laura," he pleaded.

"Remington, I can't believe you're even considering this!" she said, trying to keep her voice down.

"Considering what, Laura? We don't even know what she's asking yet."

"Of course we do. She wants you to steal that damned painting." She was breathing heavily as she paced the office. She stopped and turned on her heel to face her husband. "Need I remind you, Mr. Steele, that the last time she needed your help retrieving that painting, you ended up hanging upside down in a warehouse and I spent the night in jail?"

"I think we need to at least hear her out, darling."

"Don't. Don't even think of trying to placate me. And don't call me '_darling_' when _she's _in the next room."

"She's an old friend in trouble," he said.

And she softened as she had so many times over the years when he'd said those very words. After all, his compassion was one of the things she loved so much about him.

"Do you really believe that story about someone framing her?"

"It makes sense," Remington said. "And why would she lie? What could she possibly gain from it?"

That was what Laura was determined to find out.

"Let's have her over for dinner this evening," she said. "Maybe I can get a better feel for why she's really here."

Remington was determined to believe his old friend, but he completely understood Laura's feelings. Though they were absolutely secure in their marriage, there were still times when each of them could be rocked by something from the other's past. And he knew that his past held more surprises than hers. He was just glad that now it was Laura's first inclination to believe him rather than jump to the usually more obvious and always more nefarious conclusion.

____________________

Laura sighed as she collapsed on the sofa.

"Long day, Mrs. Steele?" Remington asked with a grin as he went back to his task of cleaning up the dinner dishes.

Laura smiled back at him.

"I just don't have the energy to deal with Felicia right now," she said. "I mean, we've just gotten through Kate's graduation …"

Remington turned to his wife as she stopped talking. "Laura?"

She shook her head in an effort to pull herself from her reverie. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said. "I was just thinking."

"You mentioned Kate's graduation," he said, reminding her where they were in the conversation.

"She's so excited about Stanford," Laura said. "She wants so much to be a _college girl_, and still maintain her relationships with her friends her own age."

"This sounds like the conversation we had when she went into high school just before she turned thirteen."

"I know," Laura said, remembering with a sigh. "She was at an awkward age, and for Kate it was even worse. She completely missed middle school…"

Remington set the dishtowel down on the counter and walked over to sit next to his wife. He put his arm around her and she leaned into his embrace.

"… She's doing all right, isn't she?" he asked.

"She says she is," Laura answered.

"And her grades never suffered," Remington added. "She's got lots of friends. I think she's doing just fine."

It wasn't really her school life that Laura was worried about. Kate was outgoing and gregarious, she'd always made friends easily. She was brilliant, and inquisitive… sometimes _too_ inquisitive. Laura didn't have the heart to tell her husband what had really been on her mind. She'd been thinking it might be time to tell Kate the truth about "Remington Steele". Kate was mature for her age and bright beyond her years as well. Laura was sure her daughter would understand why her parents had done what they'd done all those years ago. If she allowed herself the truth, Laura was more concerned about what impact telling her might have on Remington.

And dinner had been an unmitigated disaster, though Remington hadn't noticed. He didn't see the way his daughter hung on Felicia's every word, but Laura couldn't miss it. She wouldn't swear to it, but she thought she noticed Kate trying to copy the other woman's mannerisms.

"I don't want her hanging around Felicia," Laura said, in what seemed an abrupt change of gears.

"Felicia's harmless, darling," he said, pulling Laura close and kissing her temple.

"I wouldn't bet on it," she said. "I know she doesn't mean any harm, but right now her presence could be devastating."

"I think you're being a bit overdramatic," he said softly. "She's an old friend and she came to us for help."

____________________

"I just don't understand it," Remington said, pacing his office. "How could you possibly get involved with Cameron again?"

"I didn't have a choice, darling."

"Oh, come now, Felicia. We always have choices."

"Well, Michael, this time I truly didn't."

He turned to face her when he heard the obvious distress in her voice.

"You see," she went on, "I didn't exactly tell you the whole truth yesterday…"

"What?"

"I didn't know how much I wanted to say in front of Lisa."

"Her name is Laura, and if you want my help… _our_ help, you tell us _both_ everything."

"Julian didn't threaten me with the police," she said quietly.

"What did he threaten you with?"

"He has Giselle."

____________________

"So," Mildred said, walking into Laura's office. "What's the blonde barracuda want?"

"What?" Laura asked, looking up from the report she was going over.

"Felicia," Mildred replied. "I saw her leaving his office, and Sharon told me she was here last night."

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. What gives, hon?"

"She says she's in trouble," Laura answered with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

"That one _is_ trouble, if you ask me," Mildred said. "Trouble with a capital 'T'."

"That may be so, Mildred," Laura said. "But she's one of Mr. Steele's oldest friends and she came here asking for our help."

"And I thought the chief was a softie," Mildred said with a chuckle.

"It _is_ what we do, you know," Laura said, matching her friend's amusement.

They were silent for a moment as Laura turned serious.

"She says that someone is setting her up," she said. "There have been several burglaries around Europe that reek of her signature."

"But she didn't do it," Mildred offered sarcastically.

"Felicia swears she hung up her catsuit years ago," Laura said.

"And you believe her?"

"None of us are getting any younger," Laura lamented. "I know it's getting difficult for me, and at the risk of being indelicate… Felicia's got a few years on me."

"That's true," Mildred said with a laugh.

"Anyway, apparently whoever is behind these burglaries has set a trap for Felicia," Laura went on. "They want her to steal something for them, and if she doesn't they'll send the police in her direction for the other burglaries."

"What do they want her to steal?"

"You're not going to believe it," Laura said.

"Don't tell me."

"The gems of Royal Lavulite," they said in unison.

Laura laughed as Mildred's mouth hung open.

"No," Laura said. "I'm only kidding. But it's almost as bad… a painting called _The Five Nudes of Cairo._ It's supposedly cursed and both she and my husband have a long and sordid history with the piece."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"We, Mildred?"

"Yes, we," Mildred replied. "This agency is still a team, is it not?"

"Absolutely," Laura said, "but this one is pretty dangerous and there could be a lot of heat. I think that Mr. Steele and I should handle it on our own. I'll need you to keep things running around here. Murphy and Danny can handle the legwork on our current cases…"

"…And just where will you be?"

"Paris," Laura answered.

___________________

"I don't believe this, Remington," Laura spat. She stood staring at him, hands on hips. "She lied to us? Why? And how do you know she's telling the truth now?"

"Believe me, love, she won't keep anything from us again. She thought she was protecting Giselle."

"Giselle?" Laura scoffed. "Who's that? Her poodle?"

"Her daughter."

"Her _what_?"

"Her daughter," he said again, softly.

"Felicia has a daughter? Why didn't I know about this? How old is she? _Where_ is she?"

"She's twenty-six, living in Paris…and we don't talk about her…"

"We? Oh God, is she… are you…?"

"No! No. No. No," Remington said, reaching out to take his wife in his arms. "She's not my daughter. Don't you think I would have told you if I had a child? We've been together more than twenty years; do you think I would have kept something like that from you?"

"Of course not," she answered, settling in to his embrace. "I'm sorry. I just never think clearly when it comes to that woman."

Laura allowed herself only a moment of marital reassurance before switching to detective mode. She changed gears so quickly that Remington knew there would be much more discussion about Giselle before this was all said and done.

"So, how is stealing _The Five Nudes_ going to protect Giselle? And what does she need protecting from?"

"Julian Cameron. He's an Irish industrialist… art collector… Has always been a bit shady, but apparently he's gotten in to some really nasty stuff."

"How nasty?"

"According to Felicia, he's connected to a ring of Russian flesh peddlers," he said, watching his wife closely. "And he's threatened to turn Giselle over to them."

"Oh my God," she said, drawing her hand to her mouth.

"He won't do it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"He's always been in love with Felicia. I have a feeling this is more about getting Felicia than getting the painting."

"You're awfully nonchalant about this," Laura said, sternly. "Someone is threatening to sell this young woman as a sex slave, and you can sit there calmly and say it's not about the painting? I'm beginning to believe in that damned curse."

"Laura," he said, taking her hand in his. "Cameron is in love with Felicia. He saw the painting as a way to get her back in his orbit. I'm not entirely sure there _is_ a Russian slave ring, but I do know he's not going to hurt Giselle."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"He's her father."

"Does he know that?"

"No, but I think he's suspected for some years now. Thing is, I think Felicia is in love with him, too. "

"So, what are we going to do about it?"

"We're going to keep to the plan," he said. "Go to Paris and find Giselle."

"And reunite her parents?"

"Maybe."

"What about the painting?"

"Ah, Mrs. Steele," he said with a smile. "You do love a good heist, don't you? Yes, I think we might have a go at the ladies, as well."

____________________

"I'll get it, Maria," Kate said, running for the front door.

She opened the door to find a messenger standing before her.

"I have a package for Remington Steele," he said.

"I'll take it," Kate said, reaching out for the flat envelope.

The messenger handed her his clipboard to sign for receipt of the package. She noticed that there was a return address on the envelope. It was an address in Paris.

_Why would someone put a return address on a hand-delivered letter?_ She thought. But then realized that since the letter had come from Paris, it probably had something to do with Felicia and her parents' current case.

Felicia intrigued her. She was elegant and sophisticated, and she reminded Kate a lot of her own father. She wondered about how the woman knew her parents, but she had a fair idea that she was part of the "mysterious past" she'd occasionally heard her parents talk about. Whenever they mentioned it, they'd made sure she wasn't around and they were either whispering or shouting… but never was it a typically normal conversation.

She'd also noticed the way her mother looked at Felicia---it wasn't _jealousy_, exactly, but it was obvious to Kate that her mother was not comfortable having Felicia around, especially around her father. Her mother was also less than enthused when her father suggested that his old friend stay with them at the beach house. He'd said that if someone were after her, it made more sense to keep her close. Her mother had reluctantly agreed. That worked out well for Kate, who planned to find out more about her father's so-called "mysterious past" and his friendship with Ms. Simone after her parents left for France.

Kate had been working on her interrogation techniques. Danny told her that she was too excited when she was on to something. If she wanted to be taken seriously as an investigator, she had to be able to question someone with a more casual air. He told her to practice asking questions and trying not to come off like an over-excited teenager. She shook her head at the memory. Danny had been a great mentor since she'd started working at the agency after school, but he still loved to tease her like an older brother. Questioning Felicia was going to be a great way to test out Danny's advice.

She took the letter and went up to her room, where she planned to phone her parents and tell them about the contents of the letter. She sat down at her desk and opened the letter.

_**O'Leary,**_

_**I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten about you. I've been waiting for the day we'd meet again… I'm looking forward to seeing you and the five ladies. It will be a reunion neither of us will ever forget.**_

_**Luc Desmarais**_

Kate opened her laptop and began to search for information on Luc Desmarais. She couldn't find much on the man, only a news article from the year she was born about a traffic accident. The man's brother, Philippe Desmarais, was killed while being chased by police from the scene of a museum robbery.

Museum robbery? Kate thought. This case was supposedly about getting a painting called _The Five Nudes of Cairo._ Her dad had told her a little bit about the painting and the curse that was said to surround it. She knew it couldn't be a coincidence that this man's brother was apparently involved in an art theft and now he was contacting her parents just as they were involved with this painting and the threat against Felicia. She realized that she couldn't call her parents now. She'd be in big trouble for eavesdropping on their conversations about the case. But if she could somehow bring some information that could help solve the case, they couldn't be mad at her… could they?


	2. Chapter 2

As the plane began its descent into Charles de Gaulle, Remington looked over at his wife and smiled.

"It's too bad we're on a case," he said.

"Why's that?" she asked, her smile matching his.

"It's been a long time since we've taken a romantic getaway," he offered.

"Not so," she answered. "We were up in Big Bear just a few weeks ago."

"Chaperoning Kate's science class on their nature hike is not what I consider a romantic getaway," he said, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you conned me into that one."

She smiled as she took his hand, twining her fingers with his. It was moments like this one that she truly treasured… and there had been many of them in their marriage. Marriage. It was hard to believe that she and her Mr. Steele had been together for over twenty years and married for nearly twenty.

"Did you ever think we'd make it this long?" she asked quietly, as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Longer," he answered, smiling. "Laura, I knew from the very start I would love you forever. It was a scary prospect since I wasn't even sure what love really was…"

"I didn't make it easy," she said wistfully.

"Nothing worth having ever is, love," he said, turning his head to look at her. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "What say we find Giselle and dispatch this case quickly so we can take a few days to enjoy all that Paris has to offer?"

"Sounds lovely, but do you really believe that Giselle is not in danger?"

"Yes, love. Believe me, if I thought there was any truth to this slave-trading threat we would already be talking to Interpol. I can't explain it, but I just have a feeling that Giselle is all right. I think someone wants us here in Paris, but not because they're going to hand Giselle over to the Russians."

"I'll trust your instinct on this one, Mr. Steele, but I have to tell you that as a mother, I don't like this one bit. If it were Kate that was in danger…"

"Kate is fine and so is Giselle, you'll see. Now, all we have to do is find her."

"And just how do you propose we do that?"

"By starting with the only lead we have… the painting."

____________________

Remington and Laura walked hand in hand into Galerie DuChamps. It was a small, private museum owned by a renowned Parisian art collector named Guy DuChamps. To anyone who may have been watching, they were simply a couple on holiday enjoying M. DuChamps' impressive collection.

Over the years, Laura had felt that their relationship was a true asset to this side of their work. They could blend in wherever they were by simply being themselves… most people only saw a couple in love--- never two master detectives at work. When she took the time to think about it, she would smile… thinking of how distracting posing as a couple had been in the early years, the years before they were really a couple---officially anyway. Now, however, she needed to focus on the case at hand and looked up as her husband began to speak.

"This, darling," he said, as if he were instructing a child, "is _The Five Nudes of Cairo_. It has a rather long and colorful history. It's said that the painting is cursed…"

She tried to maintain an air of detached boredom as Remington droned on about the painting and she glanced around the room to see if anyone else was showing an interest… in either the artwork, or her husband's story.

"…you see, the women's religion forbade them from being seen nude by any man except their husbands. Yet, somehow, Fouchard managed to get them to pose for him. So, of course, when the reigning Pasha found out about it, he tried to have the picture destroyed. But it was smuggled out of the country, so he placed a curse on anyone who dared to possess it…"

Laura continued to watch the patrons who mingled around them. It didn't appear that anyone was paying them, or the painting, any undue attention.

"Bingo," Remington muttered.

"What?" Laura asked, looking around.

"See that man over there? The one with the grey hair? That's Julian Cameron…"

Laura unobtrusively watched the man as Remington went on.

"Will he recognize you? "

"Probably," he answered, taking her hand and turning her toward the door. "But let's not find out just yet."

"But don't we want to confront him?"

"In due time, Mrs. Steele," he said. "Let's get back to the hotel."

"I can do a computer search on our Mr. Cameron," she said, looking at her watch as they exited the gallery. "Maybe his recent activity will give us some idea where he's keeping Giselle…"

"_If_ he's keeping Giselle," Remington added, interrupting.

"Exactly. And I'd like to check in with Kate. It's almost five, which means it's just a bit before eight a.m. at home…"

"Your daughter is still sleeping," he said.

"_My _daughter?" she said with a smile. "I think she gets her sleeping habits from you." She turned and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. "I'll call her after dinner."

____________________

"You were my Dad's girlfriend, huh?" Kate asked the blonde woman who sat across from her at the breakfast table.

"What makes you say that?" Felicia asked.

"I can just tell," Kate said. She didn't want to say it was the way her mother looked at the woman. "So you knew him before he met Mom, right?" _Icy calm, Kate_, she thought. _You can do this._

Felicia nodded, smiling to herself. The girl was priming to pump her for information, and she was good. It was obvious she'd been paying attention to her parents' skillful interrogations. She wasn't sure what Kate was looking for, and she wouldn't lie to the child if she could help it, but she knew that Michael and Lisa would not appreciate her having this conversation with their daughter.

"Did you love him?" the girl asked.

"We were young," Felicia answered, careful not to give too much away. She was watching Kate casually as she sipped her tea.

"How young?" Kate asked, not meeting Felicia's eyes.

"Oh, I suppose your father was about your age when we met."

"Wow, so you _have_ known him a long time."

"Longer than most anyone, I'd imagine."

"Does he know Giselle?" Kate asked.

Felicia almost choked on her tea.

"Giselle?" she asked, in shock. "How do you know about Giselle?"

_Oops. Too far._

"I… uh… I… well, I heard my parents talking before they left," Kate answered sheepishly.

"That's enough," Maria said from the sink. She knew her charge well enough to know that Kate would not stop digging into things that were not her concern. "_Deja a la Señorita Simone_," she said. "_Esto no es su asunto_. I thought you were going to the mall today."

"I am," Kate answered. "I need to get some things for school," she said, looking down at the table. Maria had her back to her and didn't notice the action, but Felicia did and looked at her quizzically. "Lauren's mom is picking me up in a little while. I don't know why I can't just drive myself. I have a car, _and_ my license."

Her parents had bought her a Prius for her birthday, and she loved getting behind the wheel. Remington was a bit concerned that she'd taken to Laura's habit of taking her frustrations out on the road, so they'd laid down the law. She could only drive in their local area without her parents. If it involved a freeway, one of them had to be with her. And on the rare occasions that they had to go out of town without her, the car remained parked until her parents returned.

"Just barely," Maria responded. "You know the rules. No driving when your parents are out of town. Go on and get ready to go."

Kate rolled her eyes as she pushed back from the table. She was silent as she turned and left the room.

"You're very good with her," Felicia said, recovering.

"She's a good girl," Maria said with a smile. "But she asks too many questions."

Felicia smiled.

"I think she comes by that honestly," she said with a smile of genuine affection. She'd always envied Laura for her place in his heart, but seeing their child…this lovely young woman that they had raised… she realized yet again how good Laura was for him. She'd given him the one thing he truly needed, and the one thing she would never have been able to give him. She hadn't even been able to make a family for herself, leaving Giselle to be raised by her grandmother.

Kate was so like him in so many ways. Felicia knew that most people focused on the girl's similarity to her mother, but that was because they didn't know him the way she did.

____________________

"Ah, Señor_a_ Steele," Maria said into the telephone. "It is so good to hear from you. How is Paris?"

"It's lovely, Maria," Laura answered, smiling up at her husband. "And we're even getting some work done. How is Kate?"

"Oh, she's fine Mrs. Steele," Maria answered. "Regular teenager stuff. She's upset because she can't drive the car while you're gone, and I worry that she may be bothering Miss Simone…"

"Bothering Felicia?" Laura asked. She had been more than concerned about leaving Kate "alone" with Felicia. Remington had assured her that everything would be fine. Maria was there to keep an eye on Kate, and Felicia was trying to keep a low profile, so she wouldn't be any trouble. "I knew this was a bad idea," she muttered in Remington's direction.

"What's that, Mrs. Steele?"

"Oh, nothing, Maria," Laura answered. "May I speak with Kate, please?"

"Yes, Mrs. Steele," Maria said. "I'll go get her."

While she waited for her daughter to come to the phone, Laura turned her attention to her husband.

"I told you this was a bad idea," she said. "I said I didn't like the idea of Kate spending so much time with Felicia. And now, I'm not even there to monitor it…"

"Everything will be fine, love," he said, soothingly as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Easy for you to say," she said. "I think we need to hurry up and wrap up this case so we can get back home as soon as possible."

"What happened to seeing what Paris has to offer?" he asked.

"That was before I realized Kate was at home learning all about what _Felicia_ has to offer…"

"But, Laura…"

"We'll talk about this later," she said, stopping him as she heard Kate pick up the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Hi, honey," Laura said. "How are things going?"

"Fine, Mom," Kate answered. "How are you and Daddy? Any luck in finding the guy who's after Felicia?"

"Daddy and I are fine. And the case is progressing," Laura said, trying to remain calm. "Kate, honey, about Felicia…"

"Isn't she great?" Kate gushed. She knew how to push her mother's buttons almost as well as her father did.

"Just wonderful," Laura answered sarcastically. "Honey, I want you to stay out of Felicia's way. She's our guest and we want her to feel comfortable. But I'm sure she'd enjoy her privacy…"

"Don't worry, Mom. I won't get in her way. I'm going to spend the night at Lauren's tonight," she said, thinking a change of subject was her best option at the moment. "Is that all right?"

"It's okay with me," Laura said. "As long as it's all right with Lauren's mom and Maria."

"Lauren's mom already said it was okay," Kate answered. "And I'm sure Maria will be okay with it as long as she knows you are."

"All right then, just make sure you take your cell phone so I can reach you," Laura said. "And we're at the Hôtel de Crillon under our real names, if you can't get me on my cell."

"Yes ma'am," Kate answered dutifully.

"Now, let me talk to Maria. I love you, honey."

"Me too, Mom. Give Daddy a kiss for me."

"Will do."

After a short conversation with their housekeeper, Laura hung up the phone with a sigh of relief.

"Kate is spending the night with Lauren," she said to her husband. "At least now I don't have to worry about her being alone with Felicia."

"Darling, I told you, Felicia is basically harmless."

"Need I remind you Mr. Steele, that our daughter is _sixteen_. Do you really want her emulating Felicia?"

"Oh good lord," he said with an ever-widening grin. "Forget the case. We need to go home immediately."

"That's what I thought," she said, smiling. "Now let's get to work, shall we?"

"By all means, Mrs. Steele. Lead the way."

____________________

Kate stared at her computer.

She'd tracked the return address on the mysterious letter to a warehouse in Paris. It was part of the holdings of Jean Murrell Exports. She had done a search for Jean Murrell and couldn't find much. It was almost as if he hadn't existed until a few years ago, and the only scrap of information that she could find read like a standard press release. Then she found the photo. The face of Jean Murrell stared back at her and it was hauntingly familiar. She pulled up the background check she'd done the day before on Luc Desmarais. The hair color was different, but there was no mistaking those eyes.

"Ok Monsieur Murrell or Desmarais, whoever you are… what do you want with my father?" she said out loud.

She took out the letter again.

Why was the envelope written to Remington Steele when the letter said "O'Leary?" Maybe this M. Desmarais knew her father when he was undercover… or maybe he was part of that "mysterious past." She'd heard her mother telling Aunt Mildred about the painting, _The Five Nudes of Cairo_. She'd said both her husband and Felicia had a long history with the piece. The painting must be the "five ladies" M. Desmaris was referring to.

Remembering that Felicia always called her father "Michael," she played a hunch and ran a computer search for "Michael O'Leary."

She was stunned by what she found.

____________________

Remington lay awake, feeling his wife tossing and turning beside him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You're tossing around like a fish out of water. The only time you do that is when you've got something on your mind, and it usually has to do with the case at hand."

"You're right," she answered with a sigh and turned to rest her head on his chest. "I know I promised to trust you. And you know I do… but I just can't go on with this under the assumption that Giselle is all right. Not until we know for sure that she is okay. I just can't help thinking, 'What if it were Kate?' Wouldn't we do everything we could to ensure her safety? Wouldn't we want everyone else to do the same?"

"I know, love," Remington answered. "And looking at it that way, I agree. You're the lead detective here, what do you want to do?"

"I think we should go to Giselle's apartment. If she isn't being held against her will somewhere, then she'll be there, right?"

"Quite likely, yes."

"Do you have the address?"

"Yes, it's in my P.D.A. We can go after breakfast. That is, if you don't want to go right now," he added with a smile.

"You're still sure she's not in danger?"

"As sure as I can be," he answered, pulling her close.

"Then I think we should get some sleep."

____________________

"Lauren, you have to cover for me," Kate said into her cell phone.

"Kate, this is crazy. You'll never get past security. Seriously, the last time my parents took us to the Caymans, it took forever to get through the TSA screening. And then at the gate, they almost didn't let me on the plane when I got separated from my parents. How is an unaccompanied minor going to make it all the way to France? They'll never let you on the plane. You're only sixteen."

"Kate Steele is only sixteen, but Susan Vance is eighteen and on her way to visit friends in Paris before spending the summer backpacking across Europe," Kate said with a grin as she looked down at the passport in her hand. "I'll be fine. Don't worry. The less you know, the better. My Mom is gonna call. Tell her I'm in the bathroom or something and then call me right away. I'll call her back and we'll be in the clear."

"I don't like this Kate," her friend said with a sigh. "It's a bad idea."

"Don't worry, Lauren. It's cool. I'll be fine. I'm a Steele, and I think it's time I prove it."

____________________

"We might have a problem, A Stóirín."

"What is it, Daddy?"

"She didn't come alone. In fact, she didn't come at all, she sent O'Leary."

"Uncle Michael is here?"

"Yes, and he's looking for you."

The young woman sat quietly for a moment before a smile spread across her face.

"Maybe this is better," Giselle said.

"Why do you say that, love?" Julian asked.

"Because, he can help us get the painting. He's as good or better than Maman, and with him we won't have to worry about the melodrama that is sure to follow when she learns that we know each other."

"That makes sense, actually."

"You doubted me?" she said with a laugh.

"Never, darling. So where do we begin?"

"We let him find me, of course," she said with a smile that reminded him so much of her mother. "Do you know where he's staying?"

He shook his head.

"I saw him at DuChamps' gallery," he answered. "I don't know where he's staying, but he can't be too hard to find. How many Michael O'Learys can there be in Paris?"

"None. Try Remington Steele."

"The detective?"

"One and the same."


	3. Chapter 3

"Susan Vance" slungher backpack over her shoulder and made her way into the lobby of the Hôtel de Crillon. She tucked herself behind a pillar and watched the elevator. This would have been so much easier if her mother had given her their room number. She froze as she heard a very familiar voice and a striking couple made their way out of the elevator. She heard her father mention that they were going to Giselle's apartment. She would go there on her way to the warehouse.

She moved around the pillar, keeping herself out of sight as her parents exited the hotel. _Good_, she thought. At least she knew they weren't in the hotel. She would slip into their room and find a place to stash her backpack before following up on her lead. Hopefully, she'd get the information her parents needed to close the case.

She began to think she should have just phoned and told her parents what she'd found out, but she wanted to prove she could track down the lead herself. They would both be really proud of her investigative skills---of course, they were going to kill her for doing this on her own, but she thought the reward outweighed the risk. She let out a long sigh, silently praying that she was right.

She was glad she'd slept on the overnight flight. It was now early morning in Paris, and Kate needed to find a way into her parents' room. She smiled, remembering a story her mother had told her about one of their early cases, and a trick she used frequently in situations such as this. She made her way to the gift shop, thankful that her mother had given her a credit card to use "for emergencies." She'd given the card a workout already, but at the moment, she couldn't think of a situation more "emergent" than this.

____________________

"We should have done this first thing," Laura said, keeping watch as her husband picked the lock to Giselle's pied à terre.

"I was hoping it wouldn't be necessary," Remington answered as the snick of the lock indicated he'd achieved his goal. Standing, he opened the door and stepped back for his wife to enter in front of him.

Looking around, they were shocked to see the state the tiny apartment was in. There was clothing strewn about, drawers were dangling from their slides, furniture was overturned. It certainly looked as if someone had given the place a thorough tossing.

"Still convinced that there's nothing to worry about, Mr. Steele?"

"Not as convinced as I'd like to be, no, Mrs. Steele."

Laura wandered over to the window and looked out across the quiet street, thinking that certainly someone must have heard the struggle that caused this mess. She was caught off guard by the sight of a familiar head peeking around the corner.

"I must be losing it," she muttered to herself.

"What was that, love?"

"Oh, nothing," she answered, looking back across the street to the alley where she thought she'd seen her daughter. "We really need to wrap this up and get home. I think I'm missing Kate more than I realized. Probably all this talk about trafficking in young women…"

She shuddered at the thought. For the first time, she began to put herself in Felicia's shoes. She'd never liked the woman, but as a mother she could truly sympathize with what she must be going through. This case and its implications also began to make her question the sensibility of sending Kate off to Stanford at such a young age.

"Laura?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "Wool gathering," she added with a smile. "Where were we?"

"Looking to see if there is anything here that might lead us to Giselle's whereabouts."

"Right. Lead on, Mr. Steele."

Laura picked up a framed photo of a young blonde woman she assumed to be Giselle. Despite herself, she was searching for signs of resemblance to her husband. Her head knew better--- Remington had told her he wasn't the girl's father, and she knew her husband. He would never have left his child to be raised alone. But her heart betrayed her. If she'd ever seen any woman as a serious threat, it was Felicia Simone. Why would he have kept this incredible secret from her for all these years? She needed answers, but now wasn't the time. It seemed as if Giselle _was_ in trouble, and she needed them to both be focused on the case at hand.

____________________

Kate moved back into the alley. She was pretty sure her mother had seen her from the window, but the fact that Mrs. Steele hadn't come charging out the front door of the apartment building was a good sign. Her parents would probably find what they needed in Giselle's apartment. They would find the evidence that lead them to M. Murrell's warehouse. Hiding a kidnapping victim in a warehouse was so cliché, she thought. She smiled when she realized that the fact that criminals could be so dumb just made the detectives look that much better.

She took out her notebook and pulled out the letter. She'd read it over and over on the plane before she'd fallen asleep. There was something that just wasn't right about it, and she was sure her mother would have had the same feeling. If only the letter had arrived before her parents left for Paris. Of course, then, she wouldn't be here right now… in the field and in the thick of things.

She was going to be there to help her parents crack this case wide open.

If two Steeles were better than one, as her father always said, then three were unstoppable. She folded the letter and slipped it back in her notebook, taking note of the return address before putting the book in her pocket. She took out her cell phone and plugged the address in to the GPS.

She glanced warily over her shoulder before heading out of the alley and down the avenue toward the Metro station where she could pick up a train to the warehouse district.

____________________

"Looks like you're not the only movie buff around here," Laura said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Jean Murrell Exports," she said, holding up a business card.

"That's a clue," her husband said.

"You think?" she said sarcastically.

"No, I mean it's bogus. It was left here for us to find."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Do you really think that it's coincidence? Someone is using one of my old aliases---the one I used in France--- to run an import/export business in Paris?"

"I see what you mean," his partner agreed. "But the last time we made an assumption like that, the perp had no idea about your past and we almost found ourselves up to our necks in hot water."

"I know love, but I can't shake this feeling that we're being led around by our noses on this one."

"So, what do you want to do next?"

"Pay a call on M. Murrell, I suppose."

____________________

"I've been thinking," Giselle said. "Maybe we should just tell Uncle Michael the truth. He was willing to help Maman before. And he might be more successful at getting the painting if he knows what he's really up against."

"I don't know," Cameron replied. "How can we be sure we can trust him?"

"We can't, I suppose. But I'm secure in the knowledge that Maman trusts him. She doesn't trust anyone, but she'd trust Uncle Michael with her life… with _my_ life."

"That's certainly high praise," he answered with a sigh. "I'm so sorry I got you involved in this, my girl. I would never want you to see this side of my life."

The young woman smiled.

"I know that. And you didn't get me involved… I believe I did that all by myself. I wish you hadn't gotten involved in that poker game, especially not with a man like Jean Murrell… but I'm not sorry I found out about it."

"I only wanted to protect you."

"Maman has always felt the same way," she said. "But rather than protecting me, all it did was to make me grow up without my parents. Here we are and I'm embroiled in the middle of the seamier side of _both_ of your lives."

Cameron just shook his head.

"Now, let's get that painting and get you out of trouble with M. Murrell. Then, we'll face Maman together and see where the three of us go from here."

"Where did you learn to be so wise?" her father asked.

"It's in the genes," Giselle said with a smile.

____________________

"Tell me again why we're back here," Laura said, walking in to the hotel room.

"I want to see if we can find out anything more about this Jean Murrell before we show up on his doorstep," Remington answered, walking over to the desk and booting up Laura's laptop.

"_You're_ going to check on the computer? This _is_ serious."

Laura walked over behind her husband and began to massage his shoulders as he began a computer search for the mysterious Jean Murrell. She continued to work out the tension in his muscles as she read over his shoulder.

"Damn," he said, pounding his fist on the table. "There isn't anything beyond a standard press bio."

"What were you hoping to find?"

"I honestly don't know, but we need to know more about who this character is."

"I agree," she answered. "And we will. But we need to…"

She was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," she said, stopping him, as he would have stood.

Laura opened the door to find a striking young woman. She was tall and thin, with gorgeous high cheekbones, blonde hair and emerald green eyes. She looked like a model.

"I'm looking for Michael O'Leary," the young woman said.

_Like hell you are_, Laura thought. "I'm sorry, who?"

"It's all right, darling," Remington said, visibly relaxing as he walked up behind his wife. He reached a hand out to invite the young woman in. "Giselle."

"Hello, Uncle Michael."

"Giselle?" Laura said, her shocked gaze moving from her husband to their guest and back again.

"Please, come in," Remington said, as Giselle walked past them to enter the room. "I have to say, I'm relieved to see that you're all right."

"After what we saw in your apartment," Laura said. "We were afraid you might not be."

Laura closed the door and turned to look at their guest.

"You must be Laura," the young woman said.

"It's nice to meet you," Laura answered, stunned. She began to wish she and Remington had finished the discussion on Giselle that they'd started in Los Angeles. Just how much did Felicia's daughter know about their life and how much contact had she had with Remington?

Remington saw the questions play across Laura's face. He led Giselle to the settee in the living room of the suite.

"Giselle," he said. "Please have a seat. I'm going to order some tea, and then we're all going to talk. Excuse us for a moment, will you?"

"Of course," Giselle replied as Remington ushered his wife into the bedroom.

When they got into the bedroom, he closed the door behind them. When she would have spoken, he held up his hand.

"I know you have questions," he said. "And I promise, I will answer them, every one. But right now, we have to go out there and find out what's going on. Obviously, Giselle isn't being held against her will, and she knows we're looking for her. Let's go see what else she knows."

He began walking back to the sitting room.

"Forgetting something?" Laura asked.

Smiling, he turned back and took her in his arms. He gave her a long and lingering kiss.

"That was nice," she said, nearly breathless as the kiss ended. "But I was referring to the tea," she added with a wink and a smile.

"Oh yes, yes, right. The tea. I'll go make the order straight away."

As Remington walked to the side of the bed to pick up the phone, Laura made her way back to the sitting room and their guest.

"Mrs. Steele," Giselle greeted her.

"Laura is fine."

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here."

"You could say that, yes."

"Wait, you said something about my apartment."

"Yes," Remington answered. "Someone gave it a pretty thorough tossing."

"Murrell," Giselle said with a sigh. "Damn."

"What do you know about Murrell?" Laura asked.

"Not as much as I thought I did. I need your help."

Laura experienced a moment of déjà vu. This moment was nearly identical to the one she'd experienced with Felicia in Remington's office almost a week ago. Giselle was so much like her mother, in appearance and manner, at least.

"That's why we're here," Remington said, joining his wife on the sofa. "But we didn't expect to find you knocking on our door."

"I know," Giselle said. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

"That's usually a good place to start," Laura quipped.

"It's my father," Giselle said. "He's the one in trouble."

"Your father?" Remington asked, cautiously.

Giselle nodded. "Julian Cameron," she said. "And don't pretend you don't know he's my father."

Remington had the grace to look chagrined as Giselle went on with her story. He noticed that she was directly addressing Laura.

"My father is a businessman," she said. "A legitimate businessman," she added with a glance in Remington's direction. "He dabbles in art collecting, and he likes to gamble a bit. It was that particular hobby, or perhaps a combination of the two that brought us here."

"How so?" Remington asked.

"Daddy got involved in a progressive poker game about a year ago. He meets once a month with a group of men---all extremely wealthy and extremely powerful…"

"Where do they meet?" Laura asked.

"Never in the same place twice," Giselle answered. "They meet in various places around the Continent. Three months ago, the game was here in Paris. The group was joined by a man who goes by the name of Jean Murrell."

The detectives exchanged a glance as Giselle continued.

"M. Murrell is one of the biggest underworld figures in France. No one even knows his real name," she said with a smile and a glance in Remington's direction. "Apparently, he's a Bogart fan. Anyway, when Daddy lost more than he had with him… M. Murrell came up with a compromise. He _offered_ to forgive the debt if Daddy would get him _The Five Nudes of Cairo_…"

"Why would he assume that Cameron could get him the painting?"Remington asked.

"Well… my father also has a problem holding his tongue along with his alcohol. He likes to brag when he's had a bit too much… and apparently, he went on about his collection---including some of the more _rare_ objects, if you know what I mean."

"So given that he had acquired other pieces not altogether legally, Murrell assumed Cameron had the means to obtain _The Five Nudes_," Remington said.

"Right, but since it was Maman who had actually _acquired_ those pieces, Daddy said he couldn't do it…" Giselle said, and then paused, letting her thoughts trail off.

"Go on," Laura said.

"That's when Murrell threatened to kill him."

"And he couldn't just go to your mother and ask for her help," Remington said.

"No," Giselle agreed, shaking her head. "The last time they saw each other, she told him she never wanted to see him again, and threatened various parts of his anatomy if he dared to even contact her."

Remington winced, having been on the receiving end of more than one of Felicia's tirades.

"So, he came to you?" Laura asked, still confused as to where Giselle fit into the whole piece.

"No," Giselle answered. "My father was acting strangely. He was nervous, and aloof… and that was unlike him. So, I pressed him until he told me what was happening. I can be _very_ persuasive," she added with a twinkle in her eye. "After he told me what was going on, I knew we couldn't get the painting without help from Maman."

"So you came up with the story about the Russians," Laura added, following. "There is no slave trading ring, is there?"

Giselle shook her head, smiling. Laura was every bit as clever as Uncle Michael had said she was.

"I saw it in a movie," she admitted, glancing in Remington's direction before she returned her attention to Laura. "I knew that the only way to ensure my mother's involvement was to say that _I _was the one in danger."

"But you what you didn't count on…"

"Was that she would send you," Giselle said. "Will you help us?"

"Of course we will," Laura said, not believing how sincerely she meant it. There was something about Giselle that reminded her of Kate…she shoved that thought aside.

"Murrell knows we're here," Remington said.

"So, we don't have much time for planning," Laura agreed.

"You're right my love. We have to go for the painting tonight."

____________________

Kate arrived at the address on the letter. It was indeed a warehouse, and the sign outside indicated it was part of Jean Murrell Exports. She quietly made her way around the side of the building just as her parents had taught her. She climbed up the wall to look in an open ground floor window. Not seeing anyone around, she thought this was as good a way in as any and pulled herself up to climb in to the window.

Inside, she wove her way around the dark warehouse. She stopped when she heard voices.

Kate tucked down behind a crate, listening as the men discussed their plan. She was glad that her father had insisted she learn French along with Spanish. Being able to speak Spanish was essential when living in Southern California, but her father felt that speaking French would make her more sophisticated and continental, whatever that meant. Right now, it just meant that she was the only one with the information that could save her father's life.

She had to get to the gallery before it was too late.

____________________

"Why don't we just contact the authorities?" Laura asked as she and Remington changed clothes.

"Laura, we can't contact the authorities," her husband answered. "Murrell is the _Godfather_ of France. We don't know how far his grasp reaches…"

"The _Godfather_?"

"Marlon Brando, James Caan, Paramount, 1972."

Laura smiled and shook her head. "I'm still unclear as to how this is supposed to work," she said.

"Just like the last time," he answered. "We remove the painting and make Murrell believe we have it, but the painting itself never leaves the gallery. All perfectly legal--"

"Except for the breaking and entering," she said, with a roll of her eyes.

"--for the most part," he finished.

"Yes, but the last time we made Guttman believe we had the painting in exchange for Felicia's release… and yours. But how is making him believe we have the painting when we actually don't going to keep Murrell from killing Julian Cameron?"

Remington sighed.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But it's the only option we have at the moment."

"So we just go in and steal the painting," she said, beginning to show her annoyance.

"Yes," he answered, only slightly hesitantly.

"And then what?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I don't know Laura," he answered, his annoyance matching hers. "Look, I know on the surface this seems foolhardy… but I know the painting is the key."

"We already know that," she said in a huff.

"No, I mean the key to the whole thing, not just to what was going on with Giselle. I think she's only a part of it…"

"Go on," she said, tapping her foot on the ground.

"From the beginning, you know I've felt a bit like a puppet in all of this. I've felt like we've been missing something, like we were being yanked around… I can't explain it Laura, but I think we _have_ to go for the painting. We don't have a choice."


	4. Chapter 4

Kate was more than visibly shaken when she arrived at the gallery. She was reeling from what she'd overheard. This was much worse than she had anticipated. It was sheer adrenaline that got her to where she had to be.

The gallery was a trap. If her parents went in for the painting, at least one of them wouldn't make it out alive. Jean Murrell wasn't just some guy from her father's "mysterious past." He was a crime lord. _The_ crime lord in France, and he had a vendetta against Remington Steele… or Michael O'Leary… or whoever he really was. She'd have to sort that out later. But right now, she had to stop him from going in to that building.

Laura stood watch, and carried the equipment as Remington began to scale the back of the gallery. She turned toward the sound of footsteps in the alley. Before she could reach out to get Remington's attention, she was startled by a voice.

"Daddy, don't!"

"What the...?" Remington muttered, falling as he turned toward the sound of his daughter's voice.

Laura and Kate rushed to his side.

"Are you all right?" Kate asked.

"What are you doing here?" her parents asked at the same time.

"Saving your life," she answered.

"What?" they asked.

"Look, I'll explain everything," Kate said, looking around. "But we have to get out of here."

"No," Remington said. "I have to get the painting."

"Daddy, it's a trap," Kate said sternly. "Trust me. We really have to get out of here. Let's go back to the hotel and I'll tell you everything."

____________________

Kate sat across from her parents in the sitting room of their hotel suite.

"Jean Murrell is really a man named Luc Desmarais," she said.

"Desmarais?" Remington repeated. "I knew a Philippe Desmarais. But that was a lifetime ago."

"His brother," Kate replied. "I didn't get the whole story, but apparently M. Desmarais holds you responsible for Philippe's death and this whole thing was a plot of revenge…"

"And just how did you become involved in all of this?" her father asked.

She reached into her pocket for her notebook and handed him the letter.

"It arrived by special messenger the day you left for Paris. It was sent to the house, and addressed to Remington Steele, but the letter on the inside was directed to Michael O'Leary. Since Felicia calls you Michael, and the return address was from Paris… I knew it had to have something to do with this case… Why does Felicia call you Michael, anyway?" she purposefully digressed.

"We'll get into that later," Laura said, knowing that they would. "Continue with the story that brings you to Paris on your own, young lady."

Kate gave her mother the same look that Remington had when he got his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"I thought about just telling you about the letter," she said. "But then, I thought about the new IDs I'd made…" She winced. That wouldn't be her last mistake of the evening.

"IDs?" her mother asked.

Kate nodded and went to the hall closet to retrieve her backpack. When she came back into the room, she handed her mother her Susan Vance driver's license and passport.

"You made these?" Laura asked, handing the items to her husband.

Kate nodded again, noting the brief note of amusement and pride that flickered across her father's face.

"We need to have a long talk, Katharine," her mother said. Kate knew she was in trouble when her mother used the formal version of her name. "Right now, consider yourself lucky that I'm happy you're all right. But you're going to be in for it later, I promise you."

"Yes ma'am," Kate replied.

"Now, let's get back to just exactly how you ended up in Paris," Laura said.

"Well, there was just something about the letter," Kate said. "I knew it was important, and the address had to be important. I mean, why put a return address on a hand delivered letter?"

"That makes sense, but why not just phone us and tell us about it?" her father asked.

"I don't know," Kate answered. "I just got this idea in my head that I had to go to that address. When I heard you and Mom talking about Giselle, I knew that it wasn't really about someone being after Felicia… and after reading the letter, I thought the perp might really be after you, Daddy."

"All the more reason to tell us what was going on instead of going in there on your own. I can't believe you actually traveled six thousand miles on your own, and then you went to spy on what turned out to be an international crime lord… my God, Kate you could have been killed!"

"I know, Mom," she said, chagrined. "And I'm sorry. But if I hadn't been there, Daddy might have been killed."

"You should have told us, honey," Laura said.

Remington noted the fatigue in his wife's voice as well as her carriage.

"It's been a long evening, girls," he said. "I think we should all get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning."

____________________

In the morning, the elder Steeles met with the Parisian police and several Interpol agents. They gave the officials the information Kate had gleaned regarding the true identity of "Jean Murrell," leaving out any reference to Cameron, Giselle and Kate.

When they got back to the hotel, they decided it would be best to get home as soon as possible. And since she thought it best to meet her mother on neutral ground, Giselle chose to accompany them. Her father would follow in a few days, after Felicia had a chance to calm down.

By evening, the four of them were sitting together in the first class lounge at the airport, waiting for the plane that would return them to the United States.

Worn out by her long and exciting journey, Kate had fallen asleep leaning on her father's shoulder.

"Thank you for coming, Uncle Michael… uh, Remington," Giselle said softly. "I'm sorry I got your family embroiled in all this."

"You didn't," Remington answered and looked at his wife, hoping she too would offer reassurance to the young woman.

"He's right, Giselle," Laura said. "You were only trying to help your father, and it really didn't matter in the long run. It was Desmarais' plan to get Remington here, all along. You just sped up the process by a couple of days."

"Thereby putting Kate in grave danger," Giselle said, glancing at the sleeping girl as her father laid her down on the sofa next to him.

"Kate did that all on her own," Laura said. "Like you, she was just trying to protect her father. I can't fault either one of you for that."

"Speaking of," Remington said, "I think it's time you explained how you and Cameron came to know one another."

"It's quite simple, really," Giselle answered. "We met."

"I should think there's a bit more to the story," Remington scolded.

"We met in London last year when I was on holiday. I can't explain it, but there was an immediate connection. I was drawn to him, but I didn't know why. I didn't expect him to be my father…I mean, I'd long since given up the dream that one day my father would just walk into my life, and then he did."

She smiled.

"I never knew a thing about my father," she went on with a sigh. "I barely knew my mother." She noticed the puzzled look on Laura's face and began to answer her unasked questions. "My mother was always afraid that her… lifestyle… would put me in harm's way. So when I was three, she sent me to Paris to live with my grandmother. I remained with her until she died when I was eighteen. By then, Maman had been in and out of my life for years, but she was still not living anywhere with any permanence. So I decided to go to university and that's when I ended up in the States. I read Art History at NYU." She watched as Remington watched Laura, both of them engrossed in her story. I moved back to Paris and took a position at le Musée d'Orsay. I've been working there for almost four years now. I was on holiday with friends when I met Julian at Crockford's in London. He said that I reminded him of someone, and that someone turned out to be Maman. Eventually, we figured out the connection and had a DNA test. We've spent the past year getting to know one another. Like all kids, I'd love to see my parents together. He's still in love with her, and from some of the things she's said over the years, I think she might be in love with him, as well…"

"I think you may be right," Remington said.

"If you'll excuse me," Giselle said, standing. "I think I'll go and get a drink."

Remington watched her walk away and then turned to his wife.

"Are you satisfied? They had a DNA test and everything," he said quietly, making sure not to wake Kate.

"I didn't think you were her father," she answered in an equally hushed tone.

"Didn't you?"

"Maybe at first," she admitted. "But not after you told me you weren't."

"Laura, do you really think that if I had another child, you wouldn't know her? That she wouldn't be with us?"

"No," she said quietly.

"No," he said, nodding as he reached out for her. He folded her into his arms and kissed her temple. "I have one child, Laura. Our child. I would never have wanted to have children with anyone but you."

"Twenty years," she muttered against his chest.

"What's that?"

"Twenty years, Remington. Why didn't you ever tell me about her?"

"It wasn't my story to tell, love. No one knew about her. None of our friends, not even Daniel. I'm the only person from the life that Felicia ever let meet Giselle."

"But she knew you. You've obviously seen her."

"Yes, whenever we've been in Paris and twice when she was in New York."

"And you couldn't tell me then?"

"Perhaps I should have," he said, leaning back to look down into her eyes.

"Yes, you should have," she answered. "How many other secrets are you keeping from me?"

"None, my love. I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to deal with it. I've been keeping the secret of Giselle's existence since long before I met you. It was a promise I made to Felicia before I ever knew you existed… before you came along and gave me a life. It was a secret from another life, and the most important secret she'd ever entrusted to anyone. If I had betrayed that trust, it would have devastated her."

"I understand," she said.

"Do you? Really?"

"I do. But there had to have been times over the years when you thought about telling me. When you made some excuse to leave me so you could visit her… Promise me something."

"Anything."

"The next time you get an inkling that something might be important enough to tell me… tell me."

"That's a deal," he said.

"Good," she answered, smiling up at him. "Let's seal it with a kiss."

____________________

"So it turns out that Desmarais sent a letter to our house indicating that he was looking forward to seeing Remington, and the five ladies. But the letter didn't come until after we were gone. My daughter decided she was Nancy Drew and she made her way to Paris," Laura was wrapping up the case for Mildred and Murphy. "Instead of giving us the information, she thought she could take care of things on her own. Using fake ID, which she made herself, she went to Paris and Desmarais' warehouse. She overheard a conversation where Desmarais admitted that he'd set the whole thing in motion to get Remington to Paris. He didn't care about the painting at all, he just knew that Cameron would ask Felicia to get it for him. He also surmised that Felicia would go directly to Remington."

"How could he know that?" Mildred asked.

"Well, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," Laura said with a smile, "Remington and Luc Desmarais' brother Philippe were… associates. They worked cons together along the Riviera. So because of his younger brother, Desmarais was aware of the connection between the man he knew as Jean Murrell and Felicia Simone, it didn't take him long to make the connection to Michael O'Leary. Long after Mr. Steele became Mr. Steele, Philippe Desmarais got caught up in a con that was beyond his abilities. When he'd originally planned the sting, he'd planned on having a partner…"

"Steele," Murphy said.

"Right, but he wasn't available for Philippe, because he was here… with me, being Remington Steele. Philippe went ahead with the plan and was caught. He ran from the police and was killed in a car accident during a high speed chase."

"And the elder Desmarais blamed the boss for his brother's death," Mildred chimed in.

"You got it," Laura answered. "Over the years, he's become one of the biggest crime bosses in Europe, but he never got over the loss of his brother. He's been plotting his revenge all these years."

"And Kate went to see him by herself? That kid's got nerve we haven't even thought of yet," Murphy said.

"Tell me about it," Laura answered. "Of course, she had no idea who Desmarais was, or what she was getting into. She just decided that it was time she showed us what a good investigator she's going to be. She thinks she's ready to be out in the field."

"Maybe she's right," Murphy said.

"Et tu, Murphy? I don't think so," Laura said. "My daughter has a tendency to charge in where angels fear to tread."

"Like mother, like daughter. So how bad was the punishment?" Mildred asked.

"She's grounded for the rest of the summer. No cell phone, no beach parties, no car… and no movies. I'm sure I'll come up with something else," Laura said with a smile. "And we're considering delaying her entrance at Stanford for a year."

"Wow, that _is_ pretty harsh," Murphy said.

"I'm just not as convinced as I used to be that she's mature enough to live on her own," Laura said.

"I think we might be wrong about that, love," Remington said from the doorway.

"Hi, honey," Laura said as he walked over to her, placing a quick kiss to her lips. "Did you get Felicia and Giselle taken care of?"

"Yes, they're tucked away in a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Cameron will be joining them in a few days. I think it will all work out."

____________________

After dinner, the Steele family was alone for the first time in days. Kate had been quiet at dinner, but that was to be expected. The trip and the danger it presented had affected her more than anyone realized. She was also still pouting a little over her punishment, though they had decided not to delay her college enrollment.

"Daddy," she said quietly as they sat out on the deck overlooking the ocean. "Why do Felicia and Giselle call you Michael?"

He'd been expecting this. He and Laura had been discussing the idea of telling Kate the truth. He'd been hesitant, but he was beginning to see that it was time. Kate _was_ brilliant and inquisitive. It was only a matter of time before she figured it out… and even if she were to lose all respect for him, he would rather she hear it from him and Laura than to stumble on it herself.

"It's the name I was using when I met Felicia, darling."

"Were you undercover?" Kate asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not exactly," Remington said, tugging his ear and looking at Laura. His eyes were pleading with her to jump in and save him. "And it was long before I met your mother." He reached out and took his wife's hand.

"You know, you've never told me about how you met," Kate said. "I just assumed it was when you went to work together at the agency."

Remington looked out over the ocean as Laura began their story. Kate would be leaving for college in a few months, and they knew that it was past time that their daughter knew the truth.

"It all started the day a man named Ben Pearson walked into the office," Laura said. Smiling, she looked over at her husband. He was more than a little uncomfortable. She knew he was worried about how Kate would take the news. She had always adored her father, and he was afraid that would change. Laura knew there wasn't a chance of that happening. She knew her daughter. Kate loved him almost as much as she did and knowing the truth could not change that. Like her mother, when this was all said and done, Kate would love Remington even more.

"He was the most attractive man I'd ever seen…" Laura continued, "…the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He had blue eyes you could get lost in, and that accent," she said with a sigh. "He took my breath away."

Kate knew her mother was talking about her father, but who was this Ben Pearson? She also noticed her father was staring out over the ocean; it was as if he didn't want to meet her eyes.

"Mr. Pearson had come about some gems that Uncle Murphy and I had been hired to protect," Laura went on. "He said he worked for the South African government and he was there to retrieve the gems, which he claimed had been stolen, and return them to his government. This wasn't entirely true. Ben Pearson was a Special Agent with the South African government, but the man in my office was not Ben Pearson. He was however, there for the gems. He intended to steal, uh, retrieve them himself and return them to the South African government, for a finder's fee…"

Kate again looked at her father; he had always been very big on finder's fees. She remembered an argument she had once overheard where her father was suggesting the agency go into the retrieval business and her mother would hear nothing of it. She so was busy putting the pieces together, she was only half listening as her mother continued to tell her story.

"… and that's how he became Remington Steele."

_Became Remington Steele?_ Kate thought as things began to fall into place. "What do you mean, Mom? How could he become Remington Steele?"

"Well, honey," Laura answered, "It actually started several years earlier. You see, I'd always loved excitement…"

____________________

"I don't get it," Kate said, shaking her head. "Michael O'Leary was a jewel thief!"

"Art, actually," her father corrected. "Richard Blaine was the jewel thief, Jean Murrell dabbled in gems, too."

Kate looked at her father in disbelief, and his heart sank. She turned to her mother. "And you _knew_ about this?"

Laura nodded. "Eventually."

"So, it's all a lie?" Kate asked, bereft, as she stood up from the table. "The myth of _Remington Steele_ is just that, a myth. This is just great." She began pacing the deck. "I don't even know what to think. I need to go for a walk." With that, she disappeared down the stairs to the beach.

Laura stood up to follow.

"Let her go," Remington said quietly.

"Rem, we have to stop her."

"No," he said, and her heart was breaking for the pain she saw in his eyes. "She just found out that the father she held up on a pedestal is a fraud. I think you and I both know what that feels like. Let's just give her some time, eh?"

He stood up and walked back into the house, but turned and walked down to the beach.

____________________

Laura watched as her daughter approached the spot where her father sat alone on the beach. She held her breath as Kate sat down. She saw the tension melt away from her husband's form as their daughter leaned in and laid her head on his shoulder.

She smiled, understanding that everything was going to be fine. As usual, Remington was right. Kate had been through a big shock--- she learned her parents were human.

But unlike their fathers, Remington and Laura put Kate first… always. That was what was different now. Kate knew that they loved her. She was a great kid, and she loved and respected both of her parents. It might take some time, but she'd come to understand why they'd done what they'd done, and she'd understand that it was those rather inauspicious beginnings that made them all who they were.

Three Steeles… unstoppable.

___________________

"Mama," Kate said, leaning on the rail as they watched Remington walk alone on the beach.

"Yes angel?" Laura answered smiling softly. It had been many years since she'd been referred to as "Mama".

"I'm really proud of you," her daughter said. "I mean, I've always been proud of you and Daddy… but what you did," she paused and looked up at her mother. "Starting the agency like that, all on your own… it must've been so hard. You're amazing. I can only hope that one day I'll be half the woman you are and I'll be lucky. You're a great investigator," she said. "But--and I think Daddy would agree with me here--you're an even better wife and you're the best mom a kid could ask for."

Tears glistened in Laura's eyes as she pulled her daughter into her embrace.

"Thank you, baby," she said. "But I think most of that has to do with you and your father. I wouldn't be who I am without the two of you."

Kate stepped out of the hug, and they both turned again to look at Remington down on the beach.

"He's pretty incredible, too you know?" Laura said.

"Yep," Kate agreed. "I'm a pretty lucky kid. And lucky to be here, too, I think. After everything you and Daddy went through to get us all here."

____________________

"She said she thinks I'm awesome," Remington said, pulling Laura close as they snuggled together in their bed.

"She's right," Laura said, smiling as she ran her hand over his chest. "I told you that you didn't have anything to worry about."

"I don't remember the last time I was that scared," he said honestly.

"You're her daddy… I think you finally know what that means. That little girl is going to hold you on a pedestal for many, many years to come."

"She's not a little girl anymore, Mrs. Steele."

"No, she isn't."

"Pretty soon," he said with a grin, "we're going to be empty-nesters."

"Oh, no," Laura insisted. "I'm _way_ too young for that."

"Exactly. Unlike most couples, who turn to hobbies like knitting and golf when their offspring leave home, we can get back to what we do best…"

"Detecting?" she said with a giggle.

"Yes, Mrs. Steele," he said as a lascivious grin spread across his face. "Detecting. And we're going to do it in every room in this house…"

"That's big talk, Mr. Steele. I think maybe you should give me an example right now."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Steele."

"Oh, no, the pleasure is all mine."

"I think I can guarantee the pleasure will be mutual, my love."

"As always," she said. "Now shut up and kiss me."


End file.
